


Just wanna feel alive (and get to see your face again)

by p0em



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Waiting for Arthur, post serie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0em/pseuds/p0em
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has seen so much while he has been waiting. He has loved and lost. He has fought and prayed. He has grown old again and again. He has laughed and cried.<br/>Sometimes Merlin would wonder why he is still waiting for Arthur to come back when there have been so many tragedies upon Albion (now the United-Kingdom but Merlin has never been able to call it another name in his mind, in his heart). He would wonder if Arthur would return because there were times so dark Merlin thought it was time. Because of this Merlin doesn’t want Arthur to come back because he doesn’t want to face what that would mean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just wanna feel alive (and get to see your face again)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you fangirlflail (tumblr) and aleenight for the beta!  
> Title from "Echo" by Jason Walker;
> 
> Enjoy your reading =)

He has seen so much while he has been waiting. He has loved and lost. He has fought and prayed. He has grown old again and again. He has laughed and cried.  
Sometimes Merlin would wonder why he is still waiting for Arthur to come back when there have been so many tragedies upon Albion (now the United-Kingdom but Merlin has never been able to call it another name in his mind, in his heart). He would wonder if Arthur would return because there were times so dark Merlin thought it was _time_. Because of this Merlin doesn’t want Arthur to come back because he doesn’t want to face what that would mean.

 

.:.

He had seen and heard so much. But he had never touched, never smelt.  
Arthur knows that Merlin and Guinevere and the others kept on living, making Camelot into the glorious city she deserved to be. He knows they all died in the end. All but Merlin of course. He knows Merlin would wait until the end of time.

 

.:. 

It’s a usual Monday. The kids are going to school, their parents to work. Merlin is sitting on a bench, watching life go on around him. Nobody pays him any attention. He has gotten very good at not being seen when he wants to.  
It’s a usual Monday, nothing extraordinary. Merlin is waiting.

 

.:.

It’s a usual Monday. It’s not raining but clouds are hiding the sun. The water is still, the air isn’t too cold or too hot. The trees are moving with the wind.  
It’s a usual Monday when Arthur can touch and smell again.

 

.:.

There isn’t magic anymore, not too much. Cities have grown, technology has advanced. And Merlin is moving back. He is magic, but magic comes from the ground beneath his feet; it comes from the air around him. If there isn’t magic anymore, he can’t live in this world.

 

.:.

Arthur had seen and heard during the last centuries (while he was dead, while he was waiting). But it had never been like this. Today is too bright and too noisy.

 

.:.

They were great together. They fought many battles, faced many victories and defeats. They loved and protected their people; they brought peace into their kingdom. They were great together: Arthur, Gwen, Leon, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Gaïus--everyone. Merlin made sure they were remembered.

 

.:.

Arthur is walking on the side of the road. Cars pass next to him and it’s hard not to jump every time. He had seen when they were created, when they started to run on the roads. He had seen them change over the decades. But it’s weird to feel them a few inches from him.  
The sun is setting when a car stops beside him.  
“Need a ride?”  
The man is looking at him with concern. He seems nice.  
“Thank you,” Arthur says when he gets into the car.  
The man smiles.

 

.:.

It’s easy to get bored. It’s easier for Merlin as he has nothing to do but wait.  
He had heard people speak of the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Merlin was bored and it was somehow funny to tell new stories about the people he knew, about his friends. It wasn’t a surprise when it got out of hand and he did nothing to stop it. Well, perhaps he was a little surprised when he heard about him and Vivian, or Mordred, infant of Arthur and Morgana’s incestuous love.  
But he had seen worse.

 

.:. 

“Where do you want me to drop you off?”  
Arthur doesn’t answer. Doesn’t know what to say. The guy glares at him.  
“Do you have a name at least?”  
“Arthur.”  
“Nice to meet you. I’m Tom.”  
The guy smiles again.  
“You can leave me at the nearest motel.”  
Tom turns his head to look at Arthur for a second.  
“Are you running away from something? Or someone?”  
His tone is more serious. He seems a bit worried.  
“Actually I’m going after someone.”

 

.:. 

Merlin never felt anything. He thought there would have been something, a tingling or something, but there had been nothing and he had lost his ability to keep time. Just sitting, walking and sometimes helping. Waiting.

 

.:. 

Tom doesn’t talk a lot. He only says it’s too late to let Arthur “go into the wild” and he offers him to stay at his place. Arthur thanks him and turns his head to look at the trees blurring on the other side of the window.  
He isn’t used to talk, not anymore. He hates that. He had felt so lonely, so cold for centuries and the hope of being with someone again had kept him warm. He wonders if Merlin has any way of knowing that he is back. After centuries spent looking at the world from Avalon, Arthur learned that when Merlin can’t be seen, it means he doesn’t want to be found. Arthur had been lonelier and colder during these times. He hasn’t seen Merlin for years now, doesn’t have a clue where to find him.

 

.:.

Merlin gets back to his home. He notices the empty place where the young man he rents a flat to parks his car. Tom isn’t home. Merlin wishes he wouldn’t care.

 

.:.

It’s dark and there is no light when they finally stop.  
“Be careful. I don’t wanna wake up the old man,” Tom says when he gets out from the car.  
“Who is he?”  
“He owns the house, but he rents a part of the first floor. It’s not that big but it’s clean and cheap.”  
Arthur nods and follows Tom to the staircase on the side of the house.

 

.:. 

Merlin doesn’t like being old. Of course he is old, but he doesn’t like the old body. It hurts. He can’t do many things, but the body keeps him from other’s questions. An old man can easily pay a house and live alone. It would be more suspicious for a young man to do so.  

 

.:.

Arthur looks at everything he can catch with his eye from his spot, while Tom cooks pasta. He saw the world going on without him. He was apart from it. Now he is back in, and he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t belong here. It’s nice to feel real coldness and warmth, to feel the sunlight and wind. But it is so different from what he used to know, from what he remembers.  
Tom is trying to hide a smile but his eyes betray him.  
“You’re sure you’re alright?”  
Arthur nods. Tom gives him a plate full of pasta.  
“There, eat. You should feel better with something in your stomach. That’s what my mum used to say.”  
They eat at the table in the little kitchen.  
“So who are you going after?”  
Arthur looks at Tom for a few seconds, still not sure about what to say.  
“A friend of mine. I lost track of him a long time ago.”  
“Does he have a name?”  
“Merlin.”  
Arthur doesn’t hesitate. He knows Merlin used different names through his lives, but he has always been _Merlin_ to Arthur.  
“Really?” Tom chuckles. “His name is really Merlin?”  
“Yes.”  
“And yours Arthur?”  
“Yes,” Arthur says again, looking down at his food. Maybe he should have lied to Tom.  
“Sure.”

 

.:.

Merlin can hear Tom talking with someone else above him. He is surprised. Tom always seemed to be the isolated type. Even if he smiles easily, Merlin recognizes the sadness in his eyes. (Perhaps that’s why he offered him the flat.)

 

.:. 

It is three or four in the morning but Arthur can’t sleep. Not that the couch isn’t comfortable enough. Perhaps he rested enough during the last centuries. He gets up, careful not to make any noise, turns on the light and walks around the room. He finds some books and after a few minutes he settles on a _History of Britain_.  
It feels weird. He had seen all the things he is reading about. He had seen it and the memories don’t feel like what he reads. It feels like the book is missing entire pants. It’s just dates and facts and descriptions, but Arthur had seen people die by sickness or by wound. He had seen couples marry and start families. He had seen families tear apart by secrets and opinions. They were never only numbers.

 

.:. 

Merlin gets up like any other day.  
He walks through the streets he knows by heart. He looks at people living life around him. A long time ago he stopped trying to feel like a part of this world. He tried to fit in. For years and years. And then his family, his friends died. He made new friends but they all died in the end.  
There had always been magic to keep him alive. But now… There isn’t magic anymore, not really. Merlin knows what is really keeping him alive. Hope.  
Hope of seeing again someone whose face and laugh he can’t quite remember anymore.

 

.:. 

Arthur is still reading when Tom wakes up. He comes to sit beside him on the couch.  
“So, where do we start to find the mysterious Merlin?”  
Arthur looks up, unable to hide his surprise.  
“We?”  
“I don’t work for the next two weeks. I’ve nothing to do and you don’t seem like a bad guy. I may as well help you. So where did you see each other the last?”  
Arthur looks down at the book he is holding. He doesn’t want to remember the pain in his chest, in his whole body as Merlin held him tight and cried. He wants to remember his smiles, laughter and warmth.  
“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”  
“Can’t be that long.”  
Arthur closes his eyes. They’ve been waiting for more than a millennium. Almost an eternity.  
“Where did he used to live?”  
“Cardiff.”  
That’s the last place Arthur had seen Merlin ~~in~~. He is pretty sure he won’t find anything.  
“But he won’t be there.”  
Tom stares at Arthur, lifts his hand to pat him on the shoulder but holds back at the last second.  
“It’s a start.”

 

.:. 

Merlin takes the bus. He goes to Avalon at least twice a week. (He knows it’s not called Avalon anymore but it will always be Avalon for him.) He sits and waits. He wonders what Arthur would think of him if he were at his side. Would he mock him? Would he be angry at him for wasting his time?  
Merlin never stays long. There is nothing to do, nothing to see.

 

.:. 

They’re in Cardiff by noon. They walk through the city and Arthur tries to remember where Merlin used to live. Merlin was sharing his flat with a woman; maybe she would still be there and could help him. When Arthur finally recognizes his surroundings and they find Merlin’s former flat, Tom stays outside as Arthur knocks on the door. He hears footsteps on the other side imagines that it’s Merlin walking to him.  
The door opens and a woman in her fifties smiles politely at Arthur. “Can I help you?”  
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. I think he lived here some years ago.”  
“I’ve been living alone for thirty years now. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”  
“You never had a flatmate? A tall guy with big ears and cheekbones you can’t miss?”  
The woman smiles fondly at the description.  
“Looks like Emeric. But I didn’t see him since he left. Is he the friend you’re looking for?”  
Arthur nods.  
“I’m surprised. He never talked about anyone. He seemed so lonely; I never thought he knew anybody.”  
“Do you know where he went?”  
“He was talking about going North, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”  
“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting much anyway.”  
The woman nods and soon Arthur faces only the door.  
“So?” Tom asks when Arthur stops next to him.  
“Nothing.”

 

.:. 

Merlin walks slowly from the bus station to his house. Some people say hello, and he answers with a nod. He sighs heavily when he enters his garden. He is getting too known for his liking. He may have to move out. Again. He is so tired. He knows it’s not a side-effect from the body he chose. All these years, all these centuries have exhausted him. He can’t go on. He can’t move to another place, he can’t get to know people and then leave them. He stopped staying a long time ago, staying until his friends left. Now he is the first to leave. It seems easier, yet it has been anything but.  
He closes his eyes, lets the sunlight warm his old wrinkled face. He should talk to Tom, see if he can leave soon or not. (He hopes Tom won’t be able to find another place so -Merlin would have to stay.)

 

.:. 

They’re on their way to Tom’s flat when Arthur breaks the silence between them.  
“Why are you helping me?”  
“Why not?”  
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I could be a thief or something.”  
Tom shrugs.  
“I know the difference between desperate and dangerous.”  
Arthur’s eyes grow wider but his mouth stays shut.  
“My parents used to help anybody if they were able. They were involved in a lot of associations and they often offered shelter and food”  
Tom’s face has gone blank while he was talking. He has never got used the emptiness. He has never got used to be alone. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday. He still hears the phone ringing and the stranger’s voice telling him about his parents. Tom has never got used to the pain, but he has got used to not showing anything about it. It was easier to make people think he could cope.  
“What happened to them?”  
“They died. Stupid accident, drunken guy on his moto. They tried to avoid him and they ended up in a ditch.”  
They stay silent for a moment.  
“My parents are dead too,” Arthur says, even if he knows this can’t be any consolation for Tom. (He tries not to think ‘everybody is dead now. There’s only Merlin left’.) “My mother died giving me birth. I never knew her.”  
“What about your father?”  
“He… It’s a little complicated. “I had a sister who… Let’s just say she took the wrong path and when we understood what was happening, it was too late. It was very hard for him, to see this.  
They don’t speak again until they arrive and Tom parks the car in the driveway.  
“When mum and dad weren’t there, nobody took care of me. They weren’t rich, they didn’t leave me a lot of money. I had to leave school. It was a hard time. I was angry at everyone and everything. My parents had spent their life helping other people, and when they needed help, no one did anything. Then I met the old man,” Tom says, showing the house with a tilt of his head. “He came to me and helped me and I’ve never been so grateful to anyone. Everybody should get a chance to be offered some help, that’s why I’m doing this. Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe you don’t deserve it, maybe you do. But I won’t let you down like this. You don’t even have a place to sleep.”  
“It’s your duty,” Arthur comments absentmindedly.  
Tom looks at Arthur and nods after a second or two.  
“Yeah. I think you can put it like that. But I’m not doing it because that’s what my parents told me to do. I’m doing it because I really believe in it.”  
“I understand.”  
They study one another for a moment, and then Tom’s face breaks into a smile.  
“I think we should go upstairs. I’m starving.”  
Arthur nods. As they exit the car, someone calls after Tom.  
“That’s the old man. Take this,” Tom says, giving a key to Arthur. “It shouldn’t take long.”  
Arthur takes the key and watches as Tom walks into the garden, disappearing around the corner of the house.  
Arthur likes him. They could be friends (but he doesn’t lie to his friends). He need to find Merlin first. Even if it takes him years to do so.

 

.:.

Merlin invites Tom to sit next to him on the bench.  
“I heard you had a friend last night.”  
“Yeah. He may stay for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”  
Merlin shakes his head.  
“Don’t worry, I don’t. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”  
“What is it then?”  
“I may have to move out. You can see I’m not very young anymore and I would like to make a trip to the city where I grew up. I don’t think I’ll come back.”  
Lies. Lies again and again. Merlin hates it.  
“I… I understand.”  
“But I won’t do that if it puts you in a difficult position. I can wait, if you need some time to find another place.”  
Merlin hates these moments. He hates it when he has to tell people he is going to leave them. He hates to see sadness in their eyes. Because of him.  
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Smith. You have to think about yourself.”

 

.:. 

Arthur is in the kitchen trying to find something to cook, right, cook, for dinner, when Tom enters the flat.  
“What did he want?”  
“He wants to go,” Tom answers with a blank voice.  
Arthur’s mouth opens, he wants to say something but nothing comes out. Tom sits down. He tries to smile at Arthur as if Smith leaving is nothing to be concerned about but it doesn’t fool Arthur.“You’ll have to move out,” Arthur guesses.  
Tom simply nods.  
“Is there nothing I can do?”  
Tom looks up at him.  
“I don’t think so. Don’t worry, I’ll find something. I could take another job; I may call some friends, perhaps they’ll have something for me.”  
Arthur sits on the other side of the little table and puts his hand on Tom’s arm.  
“You will be fine, I’m sure.”  
Arthur doesn’t like the aftertaste of lying in his mouth, but he knows sometimes lies are needed and this is one of them.

 

.:.

Merlin can’t sleep. It doesn’t surprise him. At moments like that he can never find peace, never rest. (He isn’t sure he has ever been able to.) It hurts so hard but he knows it is necessary, he knows he has to do it. It hurts so hard he wishes he could have someone with him, someone to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be alright.  
Merlin can’t sleep. It has always been hard to let go, to rest. He wishes he could close his eyes at last. He wishes he didn’t have to feel pain and sadness anymore. He has wished for a very long time but his wishes never come true. Sometimes he thinks _that’s it_. He forgets. He thinks he is able to rest like everyone else, but he always jolts back awake. Kilgarrah’s words echo in his head and he knows he has to keep on. And wait.

 

.:. 

Arthur finds other history books and he can’t stop reading them. He thought he had witnessed the whole evolution of the world, but the more he reads, the more he learns how much he never saw, never heard. When Tom stands up to go to bed, Arthur asks him if he can borrow his computer. Tom doesn’t say anything and puts the computer on the coffee table. It doesn’t take long for Arthur to learn how to use it. Soon he is on the Internet. He searches for Merlin’s alias on Google, but there are so many Smiths Arthur doesn’t know where to start. He tries to narrow his search, tries to pick something about Emeric Smith in Cardiff but he can’t find anything. Merlin always knew how not to be found. It makes Arthur angry for a moment. He doesn’t even know if Merlin is still in the country. He could as well be on the other side of the planet.  
Arthur glares at the screen, at the flickering cursor. There is something he wants to type but it feels weird, he doesn’t understand why. After a few minutes Arthur taps some letters into the search bar. As he expects, too many results appear. He isn’t aware of time passing as he reads more about the legends of him, his knights and Merlin. He knows Merlin tampered with the legends. Arthur wonders if all the non-truths are from him or not. He is disgusted, surprised, hurt, and nostalgic as he opens more tabs. Most of it is fictitious, nothing close to what really happened. But there are a few stories which remind Arthur of Guinevere, his knights, his father, Morgana and so many more. It makes him cry. He cries because he loved every one of them, he cared for them but they’ve all gone and Arthur is on his own in a world he doesn’t know anymore. He cries as he shuts the laptop. He cries out his loneliness, his grief.

 

.:. 

Merlin returns to Avalon the day after. He stays for hours, sitting on the grass, not looking away from the old tower.  
He wonders if Arthur’s spirit is there, floating in the air while Merlin waits for his return or if he is sleeping in a dead body, not knowing when he will wake up. Merlin can’t imagine Arthur simply being dead with nothing of him remaining. He wonders if Freya is still a part of the lake. He doesn’t dare call her (he doesn’t even know if she would come) because he doesn’t want her to see what he has become. He wonders where all his friends’ spirits went, if they’re still out there, watching over the world (watching over him) or if they passed to the other side (if there is one). He hopes they all find each other; he hopes they’re not alone.

 

.:.

Arthur asks Tom if he can help him find a job.  
“I thought finding my friend was the only thing I had to do, but apparently I won’t hear about him soon so I have to do something. I can’t stay here forever.”  
Arthur tries not to sound resentful. He has seen Merlin waiting for him during all these years; he has always thought the sorcerer would be there, with him. He never thought about anything else: Merlin should have been there with Arthur, as he always has been. And yet, Merlin can’t be found for now. Arthur starts to understand he is powerless in this situation; he can only wait for Merlin to come back.  
Tom nods.  
“What did you do before?”  
“I know how to hunt and fight.”  
Tom looks at him with wide eyes and sighs, looking exhausted.  
“Okay. Are you good with people?”  
“I think so.”  
“I’ll try to talk to my boss. We could go into town. Ask around. See if there are any openings.”  
“I’ll do anything,” Arthur says firmly.  
Tom gazes at him.  
“Where do you come from?”  
Arthur doesn’t answer. He is sure Tom doesn’t really want an answer anyway.

 

.:. 

Arthur has to find a way to get papers. It’s not easy. Not at all. He doesn’t exist and he doesn’t know how to explain it to Tom.  
Tom isn’t stupid. He knows there is something weird with Arthur. He looks out of palce. When Arthur tells him about having no papers, Tom is not surprised. When he picked Arthur up, the man had literally nothing but the clothes he wore. Tom might have been foolish not to take him to the nearest police station. He should have made Arthur leave but he couldn’t. He didn’t know why but he felt that Arthur needed him and Tom couldn’t let him down.  
“Don’t worry, I think I know someone would could help you.”  
So the day after that Tom takes Arthur to London. It’s the first time Arthur rides on a train and Tom teases him about it. Everything Arthur sees surprises him. He realizes how much he hasn’t seen from Avalon, from his death. Nothing is like he expected. The landscape on the other side of the window blurs and Arthur is amazed because it means the train goes really fast, faster than he ever imagined.  
At the end of the afternoon they arrive in London and Arthur stops at every step. There are so many new things out there, he wants to look at everything, he wants to be able to remember them when he would go.  
“Come on, Arthur,” Tom calls, pulling Arthur by his sleeve.  
An hour later they enter a bar. It’s dark and smells like sweat, tobacco and leather. Tom leads Arthur to a corner table and the wait continues.  
Arthur is dozing when he noticed Tom standing up.  
“Coming back,” Tom says before going into the crowd.  
He comes back a few minutes later, his arm around another man’s shoulders.  
“Arthur, this is Harry. Harry, this is Arthur, the friend I told you about.”  
Harry holds his hand to Arthur, who shakes it.  
“So, you need papers?”  
Arthur glanced at Tom before answering.  
“Er, yes.”  
“I can’t do anything tonight; you’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow. Do you have to place to crash this night?”  
“Not really,” Tom says.  
“Come with then, in the memory of the old days!”  
Tom and Harry laugh.

Arthur learns that Tom and Harry went to school together. They were good friends, but after their graduation Harry went to London and they didn’t talk much to each other. When Tom’s parents died, Harry was one of the only one to sincerely offer help to Tom, even if it wasn’t much. That’s when Tom learned about Harry’s not so legal occupations.  
They don’t sleep much that night, Arthur listens to Harry and Tom talking about their time at school, the pranks they used to do and the parties they attended to. Arthur doesn’t say anything, only listens and drinks.

The evening after that Arthur and Tom are back in Tom’s flat with fresh new papers from Harry. They didn’t even have to pay anything to Harry, who only made Tom promise to come back to see him soon.

 

.:. 

Merlin is pretty sure Tom is permanently living with someone else; it’s not just a “friend”, but he hasn’t the heart to ask Tom about it. Maybe it’s better that Tom has found someone. Maybe Merlin leaving won’t hurt as much.

 

.:. 

Tom goes back to work. After work he takes Arthur out shopping to buy new clothes (even if Arthur has no money, Tom can’t let Arthur borrow his clothes anymore).  
The day after, he takes Arthur to his workplace. His boss offers Arthur a place (Tom suspects this is because of the amnesia story).

 

.:.

Arthur has never worked in fast-food, of course. So he surprises himself when he develops a routine. He is nice to the customers, and his colleagues like him. Tom mocks him, says he is getting jealous because everybody cares about Arthur and not about him anymore. Arthur laughs and goes back to work.  
It’s easy. He likes it.

 

.:. 

Merlin doesn’t know where he wants to go. He has never been far away from Avalon.  
Today he feels like he might try leaving the country. He had spent centuries in Albion, maybe it’s time to leave it once and for all. His heart aches at this thought, but not as much as he thought it would. Perhaps that’s an omen. Maybe there is really nothing left to him here.  
Time to move on.

 

.:. 

Arthur never forgets Merlin. He can’t: he spent centuries watching him go on with his life (yet never going too far). He never forgets Merlin but he knows he can’t do anything anymore. Merlin doesn’t want to be found. Arthur hopes Merlin would find him, some way or another. He hopes he hasn’t come back to spend the rest of his life alone.  
He never forgets Merlin and it keeps him awake at night. Arthur imagines what he is doing now, where he is.  
Arthur wishes he genuinely had amnesia.

 

.:. 

Arthur is on a night shift when Mr. Smith calls on Tom. Tom opens the door and can’t hide his worry. Mr Smith doesn’t come up often, only if it’s important. Mr. Smith lifts a hand up to keep Tom from talking.  
“I hope I’m not interrupting you.”  
Tom shakes his head.  
“Do you want some tea?” he invites him inside.  
“No, thank you. I just want to talk. I understand that someone is living with you now.”  
“Yes,” Tom answers, uneasily. “Hope you don’t mind. He has nowhere to go; he just started a job so he‘s staying here until he can afford his own place.”  
“Don’t worry, he can stay. How is your job?”  
“It’s fine. I took a few more hours so I can save more money.”  
Mr. Smith looks away. The old man is uneasy with this subject.  
“About that. I don’t want to urge you, but I would like to know how long you need to have enough money.”  
“Just a few months. A friend of mine told me about an advertisement for an apartment not far from here, I may find another place before the beginning of the summer.”  
Mr. Smith’s lips are just a tiny line and his blue eyes don’t move away from his hands crossed on his thighs.  
“As I said, I don’t want to urge you. I can wait the time you need.”  
“Don’t worry,” Tom says with a gentle voice. “Everything is gonna be alright.”  
Mr Smith looks up; his eyes are bright and he smiles.  
“Thank you,” he whispers.  
Tom tilts his head on a side. He has the feeling he has missed something.  
“I’m going. Say hello to your flat mate for me.”  
“I will.”

 

.:. 

A few days after this talk, Tom decides to tell Arthur about it. Arthur looks sorry, knows what it means to Tom, and Tom is grateful for this. Arthur is glad he hasn’t forgotten what having a friend feels like. It’s good.  
“Maybe we could find a flat together? I mean, it would be cheaper for both of us, wouldn’t it?”  
Tom smiles. It’s a great idea. Arthur smiles too.

 

.:. 

“When is your birthday?” Tom asks one night.  
“May, the first,” Arthur answers.  
He doesn’t look from his book, but he stops reading. He remembers the last time he celebrated his birthday. It feels like it was just yesterday, Guinevere sitting on his left, Merlin joking on his right and his knights drinking and laughing.  
Arthur feels sad and blinks a few times to chase away the tears. He tries to read the economic book and fails.

 

.:.

Tom is cooking breakfast when Arthur exits the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower. He looks at the mail to see if there’s an answer from one of the flat announcements they applied to.  
“Who’s Mr. Smith?” he asks, holding up an envelope.  
“The old man. I must have taken that by mistake.”  
Arthur sets the envelope aside and keeps going through the mail.

 

.:. 

Tom seems truly happy since his friend moved in and Merlin feels the weight on his shoulders lighten a little. Now he is sure he can leave.

 

.:.

May the first comes and Arthur goes to work as usual. He works a night shift and is pretty tired when he returns to the flat. He thinks about sleeping on the couch and smiles when he imagines what Merlin’s reaction would be if he knew his king agreed to sleep on a couch instead of a proper bed. He would probably tease him. Arthur thinks about sleeping until noon at least when he opens the door, the lights flip on and people start shouting _happy birthday!_ from everywhere. He can’t help but cry out.

 

.:.

He hasn’t felt this goofy since an eternity (which _does_ mean something to him). He likes to be surrounded by people he likes, colleagues and friends. He feels like he really belongs to this world.

 

.:. 

Maybe this time can be his time too, Arthur thinks.

 

.:. 

Merlin can’t help but smile when he hears shouting above him. He groans a little when he hears the music (he will never like music from this time) and returns to packing.

 

.:.

The air is too hot, too oppressing. Arthur can’t breathe. He tries to laugh and waves to Tom not to worry.  
He can’t breathe and he almost feels like he is dying again.  
He stumbles on his feet and opens the door to go outside. His grip is firm on the banister as he walks down the stairs. He can still hear the music and the voices from the flat, all for him, but he doesn’t care.  
He almost falls on the grass when he tries to sit on the bench. The metal is cold under his thighs, against his back and he shivers. It’s so different from the warmth of Merlin’s legs and arms around him.  
Arthur can’t breathe and he knows why. It felt nice up there with his colleagues and friends, but it didn’t feel right. Because he can’t be friend with these people. They didn’t live through the same events; they didn’t grow up at the same time. Arthur wants his true friends back. He wants Merlin, Guinevere, Lancelot and Leon back. He wants to feel Percival’s hand taking his breath away as he claps him on the back. He wants to hear Gwaine’s cheesy jokes. He wants Elyan back so he could bring joy back into Guinevere’s eyes. He wants his father back. He wants Gaius and Morgana and Mordred back. He wants Merlin and his stupid smile back.  
Arthur doesn’t belong here. He belongs to another place, another time. He has no right to be here with these people.

 

.:.

Merlin looks at the room. There are still many things, but nothing important. He looks at his bag and his fingers tighten around the rough fabric. All that matters is there. What really matters can’t be put in a bag anyway. He sighs and closes the door behind him, takes a deep breath of cool night air and walks toward the road.  
He hears heavy breathing and rolls his eyes. Some of Tom’s friends should find another place if they want privacy.

 

.:.

Arthur hears footsteps but doesn’t turn around. He needs to be alone right now. He just wants to remember times where he could easily talk with his friends without lying.

 

.:.

Merlin spends two days and one night at Avalon. His last goodbye to Arthur. Maybe he cries. After all this time he isn’t sure if it means something.  
Then he changes back into his younger self and starts walking to London. He has all the time.

 

.:.

It takes a few days for Tom and Arthur to realize Mr Smith isn’t around anymore.  
When Arthur comes back from work he finds Tom sitting on the couch. The first thing Arthur sees is the tears, then the sheet of paper.  
“What’s that?” he asks, dropping his keys on the kitchen table. Tom sniffs and lifts his hand to Arthur, giving the note.  
“I haven’t seen Smith for a while, so I thought I’d check on him. I knocked on his door and found this. I don’t think he’s coming back.”  
Arthur takes the note, freezes, can’t breathe.  
“Arthur?” Tom calls. “Are you alright?”  
Arthur sits on the couch and closes his eyes for a few seconds. It can’t be. Not all this time. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.”  
“Arthur?”  
He frowns at Tom but he can’t speak. His throat is too tight. He looks at the paper again, maybe he didn’t read right.  
 _Dear Tom,  
_ _I’m sorry to leave without saying goodbye but I have never been the one to do farewells.  
_ _I wish you well.  
_ _Emeric Smith._  
“Arthur? What is it?”  
The blond doesn’t answer right away. He can’t look away from the name, the signature. He finally laughs, maybe a little too hysterically, as he brushes a finger on the letters.*  
“I’ve been living here for months and I never saw him once. How stupid is that? He was there since the beginning and I never realized.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
Arthur finally looks up at Tom, shakes his head.  
“Nothing. Nothing at all. We should go pack our things,” he says as he gets up.  
“Arthur?”  
But he ignores the call. He goes to the bathroom, locks the door behind him and lets himself fall to the ground.  
He can’t accept that after all this time, Merlin was just there, living in the same house. Has Merlin been aware of his presence? No, Arthur thinks. No, Merlin would never have left him. He would have never left if he had known. But he hadn’t and now he was gone.Arthur doesn’t know what to do.

 

.:.

They move into a new flat a week later. They’re both quiet when they open their cardboard boxes and spend the first evening in their respective bedrooms.  
Tom is sad because he wanted to see Mr. Smith one last time. He hates it when people leave and he can’t say goodbye. It reminds him too much of the night when he argued with his parents and went into his room. He hadn’t answered them when they said goodnight before leaving. They never came back. Tom hates it.  
Arthur lies on his bed but he can’t sleep. He knows he can’t do anything and that makes him angry. Angry at Merlin, angry at himself. He wishes he could go back in time, to go to Merlin. He wishes a lot of impossible things and he hates it.

 

.:. 

The dawn has not quite risen and the air is too fresh but Merlin likes it. It feels like promises and he lets himself smile.  
He walks to the ferry and is about to embark on the ship when  he looks back one last time at Albion. At Tom and Emily. At Arthur.

 

.:.

Days pass and Tom and Arthur get used to their new flat. It seems like a new life (it is, for Arthur).  
They invite some friends; they go to work and are more or less satisfied with it.  
If sometimes Arthur looks into the crowd, searches for someone, but doesn’t say anything, Tom won’t speak about. Everybody has secrets.

 

.:.

Merlin didn’t board the ferry, didn’t go to France. He looked back and knew he couldn’t leave. Not yet.  
He goes to Cardiff, changes into his old self so Emily won’t recognize him. She lives alone but she seems happy with her life. He smiles at her when he crosses her path and leaves the city the same day.

 

.:. 

Tom gave Merlin his new address before he left and it doesn’t take long to find the block where he lives with his friend. He sits next to the entrance of Tom’s building. He has a book open on his lap but he doesn’t read. He just wait.

 

.:. 

It’s the middle of the afternoon when he hears a familiar voice. Merlin tries to look casual when he sees Tom stop inches from him.  
He seems happy, like Emily, and Merlin feels the guilt. Then his eyes catch a glimpse of blond hair. The laugh that answers Tom rings strangely familiar.  
He gasps, and the two men turn to look at him. Tom speaks but Merlin doesn’t hear him. He can’t see him. His whole world had been reduced to Arthur, standing flesh and blood in front of him. He can’t breathe. His heart is beating so fast and it’s the only sound he can hear, his blood running stronger than ever.  
He can’t believe it. He wants to run away. Surely it’s a hallucination. Arthur can’t be back. He would have known it, _felt_ it. He stands up, he is going to leave but fingers catch his wrist, make him stay. Merlin stares at them and soon his vision blurs with tears. Because he can feel it, the smooth skin against his, the warmth of a body, his body. It’s not a mirage. It’s real.  
Merlin cries and laughs and looks up. Arthur is smiling at him, tears in his eyes too.  
“You’re here.”  
“I’m here.”


End file.
